A real killer playing a villain; the guy surnamed Zhen in Detective, run!

At the same time.

Security monitoring room. Three screens are arranged side by side, with the middle one set up in a fixed position in the southeast corner of shed number five.

Jiang Yan sat in a swivel chair, her right hand pressing the timer function on her tactical watch, and her left hand holding a 0.5mm black ballpoint pen.

On the screen, Lu Yuan was lying on his side on the metal beam at the bottom of the light fixture. It was less than thirty-five centimeters wide, and he would fall off if he rolled over, but his spine distributed his weight precisely along the midline, and even Lao Liu was stuck in the indentation under his armpit, standing steadily.

Jiang Yan stared at the rise and fall of his chest, and the stopwatch went exactly sixty seconds.

She looked down and wrote a number in her notebook: "Breathing rate: 6 times/minute".

Normal sleep breathing for adult males is between 12 and 20 breaths per minute. Athletes can reduce it to below 10.

6 times.

She looked at it for another thirty seconds to make sure she hadn't miscounted.

I turned to the page awaiting confirmation, and the pen lingered on the paper for two seconds. I wrote:

"Combat Nap. Battlefield fragmented deep sleep. Enters a deep sleep cycle within 3 seconds under strong noise interference, with estimated resting heart rate locked below 50."

"According to publicly available information, the U.S. Navy Special Warfare Development Group (DEVGRU), the British SAS 22nd Regiment, and the Israeli General Staff Reconnaissance Battalion have records of systematically training this technology."

"These are all top-level anti-human physiological regulation methods used to carry out long-term infiltration behind enemy lines and high-pressure interrogation confrontation missions."

---

At 1 a.m., the late-night filming began, with the male lead and the second male lead facing off in an extended confrontation.

When Zhao Xiujie got out of the van, dark circles were hanging down to his cheekbones. He really hadn't slept well. He had been resting in the car while Lu Yuan was filming during the day, but his mind was racing, and he couldn't sleep soundly.

He downed a strong cup of coffee, patted his face twice, and walked into the venue.

Lu Yuan was standing opposite him.

Her complexion was rosy. The whites of her eyes were clear. She was excessively energetic.

"Attention all departments! First shot!"

Zhao Xiujie got into character. He began to deliver his lines.

"You think...you think transferring the money to—"

It's stuck.

The third word was repeated twice.

"Crack! Again."

Article .

"You think transferring money overseas is safe? Let me tell you, Shen Yibai—"

The last syllable of "Shen Yibai" floated upwards, indicating insufficient breath control.

"Click."

Thirdly, Zhao Xiujie's tongue stumbled over the word "offshore"—there was an English line in the script that he had memorized twenty times, but his brain refused to execute it at one in the morning.

Article 4. He yawned halfway through his lines.

The jaw joint opens uncontrollably. Physiological tears squeeze out of the eye sockets.

The entire room fell silent.

Zhao Xiujie's face turned a deep purple under the cold white light.

Lu Yuan on the other side waited a few seconds before speaking.

"The next line is 'I have the final say on this money,' followed by 'You're nothing but a dog that's been let out to bite.'"

Prompt him.

Zhao Xiujie's molars were grinding together.

We finished work at 3 a.m.

The van door slammed shut, and the soundproof glass blocked out any noise inside. But from the outside, you could see the van shaking slightly, and someone kicking the seats inside.

The chubby assistant stood outside the car, too afraid to open the door.

Old Jin sat behind the metal desk in the coordination office, smoking one cigarette after another.

He's worked with Zhao Xiujie on three projects. He's indebted to Zhao Xiujie. He helped with the scheduling, but it all went down the drain, and now Zhao Xiujie's anger is directed at him.

Open the script for the shoot the day after tomorrow. Scene 12, Shen Yibai's office, the male lead sneaks in to steal a USB drive but is caught, and the two engage in close combat.

This scene was a key scene that Su Qinghan personally oversaw.

He's been in this business for twenty years. The physical skills in real combat are different from the fancy moves in front of the camera. You can memorize lines and act out expressions, but when it comes to action scenes, muscle memory doesn't lie.

Without three to five years of foundational training, one's physical coordination will be insufficient, and the rhythm will be off, resulting in a chaotic and disorganized performance on camera.

This requires real skill. How can an amateur who started as an extra possibly hold their own?

Old Jin put the cigarette case in his pocket and went to the martial arts group's rehearsal hall.

---

On the west side of shed number five, four interlocking cushioning mats were laid on the temporarily cleared space.

Old Jin was wearing a black quick-drying shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing his strong forearm muscles and several old bruises. At fifty-three, his physique was tougher than most young stuntmen.

Six martial arts practitioners stood in front of him.

"Today, I'll personally demonstrate the moves to the second male lead." Old Jin cracked his knuckles as he flexed his wrists. "You guys watch from the sidelines and coordinate your movements later."

It was exactly 10:00 AM. Lu Yuan arrived.

Old Jin came up to him and patted the magnesium powder off his hands.

"Teacher Lu, for today's fight scene, Director Su requires a very realistic feel. Let me go over the moves first, and you can take a look."

Lu Yuan nodded, found a prop cardboard box to sit down, and took out a cat treat and slipped it into his collar.

Old Jin stood in the center of the mat. He took a deep breath.

Start.

The right leg springs out, a high sweep. The shoe slices through the air, creating a short, sharp whistling sound. As the leg retracts, the upper body presses down, the left elbow slashes horizontally, a spinning elbow strike. The elbow tip traces a semi-circle, narrowly missing the imaginary opponent's temple.

Without stopping, the momentum from the elbow strike was used to fuel the next move, three consecutive hooks. Left, right, left. The punching speed gradually increased, and the last punch twisted at an angle, with a penetrating spiral.

Pull back your fist. Turn around. Grab the imaginary opponent's collar and belt with your right hand, and use your waist and hips to perform an over-the-shoulder throw.

The entire sequence of movements was performed in one smooth motion.

Old Jin landed and stood firmly, slightly out of breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

He turned to Lu Yuan, "Teacher Lu, did you see that clearly? What we need is visual impact. Teacher Zhao practiced at the martial arts school for half a month before, and he can do this set of moves with his eyes closed."

On the side of the rehearsal space, Zhao Xiujie leaned back in a folding chair, holding an iced Americano in his hand. He had arrived half an hour early on purpose.

Waiting to see the show.

The martial arts team members exchanged glances. They were well aware of the difficulty of this routine. The high sweep kick required an extremely high degree of hip joint opening, the weight transfer from the rotating elbow to the hook punch required precise control of the core muscles, and the over-the-shoulder throw was a test of both strength and timing.

For a proper martial arts practitioner to master this set of moves, it would take at least two to three days of practice.

Giving an amateur extra half a day to learn? Don't be ridiculous.

The stagehands and a few extras squatted on the outside, craning their necks.

Lin Yue stood next to Su Qinghan, her fingernails starting to pick at the paper in her hand again.

On the cardboard box. Lu Yuan had finished stuffing the cat treats in.

"Master Jin".

"Um?"

"Fighting like this leaves too many openings."

Old Jin's smile froze in time.

Lu Yuan gestured with his hand: "From the moment the high kick starts to the moment it lands, the entire right side of your ribcage is unsupported for almost a second and a half. The weight shift in the rotating elbow relies on lumbar spine compensation, not hip axis drive. After the second punch, your left knee is already turned outward."

He unscrewed the thermos and took a sip of water.

"If a real fight breaks out, you won't last three seconds."

The rehearsal room fell silent.

Old Jin's face turned from red to green. He had been working in the martial arts world for decades, winning a top-three finish in the national martial arts championship's routine category, and had been a stunt double for four top action stars. And now, a pretty boy who started as an extra, in front of his entire team, said he couldn't last three seconds?

"Since Teacher Lu is knowledgeable in this field," Old Jin said, draping a towel over his shoulder, "then let's not just talk the talk, come down here and give the brothers some pointers. Let's really listen, see, and feel for it."